Echos in Time
by The Fountian Pen
Summary: Time was unpredictable and untamed, a constant current and when that current intersects with magic, strange and unexpected events are sure to follow. Barmy, the inventor of the time turner, had learned that inescapable fact and so too would Sirius Black.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter it is property of J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, (UK), Arthur A. Levine Books (US), Raincoast Books (CAN), Warner Bros., Steve Kloves, Michael Goldenberg, David Heyman, Chris Columbus, &, Mark Radcliffe, David Barron, J. K. Rowling. I own nothing but my own character creations, I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed...well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. No recognizable characters are mine, merely my own creations.

Story inspired by Misplaced Moony by ShayLonnie

Chapter One:

The Trouble With Time

Any wizard or witch worthy of their wand, knew that magic was like the ocean. With its unchartered depths and raging waters that could never and would never be tamed. Only harnessed, much life time. Time however was a sand storm, wild and destructive, blinding and burying all those caught in its path. Many thou would try and all would fail, sometimes with dire consequences. Yes, power was a siren's song for the weak willed. It lured so many into its bottomless depths with promises of grandeur and spat out their bones.

Two such polar opposites dangerous and deadly in its separate forms were an unchecked force of nature when combine. It was much like mixing potassium and water. The ensuing reaction was explosive. Few had the power to wield such raw magic without cataclysmic results. None knew this better than Percival Winston Barmy, of the small village of Ottery St Catchpole, the founder of the International Department of Inscrutable Occurrences of Time (I.D.I.O.T) and the inventor of the Time Turner. Who had dedicated his life to unraveling the unspoken mysteries of time magic.

A smart man would have thrown in the tea cozy. Percival Barmy, however was not a smart man. And continued to work and try to bend the elements to his will (but like their metaphoric counterparts magic had but one master and it was its creator) but water did not survive the scorching sun of the desert and sand could never hope to keep afloat in the ocean. One could not stabilize the other. After all two halves of a different whole when combine did not make an true whole.

It wasn't until his one hundred and nineteenth year that Barmy found the answer. Never seek to conquer when you can simply balance the scales. The answer laid not in combining the two but in finding what they had in common. In the end Barmy created only fourteen Time Turners before time and magic had grown weary of his hubris. After all even a balanced scale can still tip when one becomes complacent. So fourteen the number would remain. One for each life his ambition had stolen.

In the coming centuries many with greedy hands and little sense would cause no small amount of mischief. Therefore setting off a chain reaction that would steal three hundred lives and nearly burn Chicago to the ground. Fearing more loss of life the ICW had little choice but to step in and set down heavy restrictions and penalties. In compliance then Minister of Magic Gumption Billywig created the the Time Room. Hidden behind a labyrinth of dead ends and revolving doors deep within the Department of Mysteries. Where few would ever wield or gaze upon the golden hourglasses with out the express permission of the Chief Warlock. There they would stay locked away gathering dust, until the only master time and magic bowed too would see them destroyed.

Truly it was ironic that the destruction of Barmy's invention would come at the wand of a follower of a man seeking absolute power. A beam of violet light would create a constant reminder to all those who sought to meddle with time. As thirteen Time Turners would forever be caught in an endless loop of self-destruction. The fourteenth, however would fall free of its brothers and sisters falling at the feet of three teenagers and exploding in a storm of golden sand.

Yes, time was unpredictable and untamed, a constant current and when that current intersects with magic. Strange and unexpected events are sure to follow. Barmy had learned that inescapable fact and so too would Sirius Black.

Remus Lupin cried out as Harry disappeared after the retreating Bellatrix, with Dumbledore hot on his heels. The high pitched cackling sing-song of "I killed Sirius Black" echoed in his sensitive ears as he fought desperately to free himself from his duel with Lucius Malfoy. All around him the battle raged curses flew in a rainbow of colors bouncing of hastily conjured shields and blasting chunks out of the stone walls.

Behind him Mad-Eye set Rookwood's robes on fire before disarming him and putting him down with an Incarcerous. Now trussed up like a Sunday roast Mad-Eye turned his magical eye on Rodolphus who was distracted by Kingsley. Unbothered by this Moody hit him with a hex that lifted the other wizard off his feet and slammed him harshly into the pocked wall with a sickening crack.

If Remus hadn't been so distracted by Malfoy, he may have noticed the golden hue that began to glow from beyond the tattered curtain Sirius fell through. As it was he barely even noticed as recently Enervated McNair go sailing past his head like a Quaffle, until his trailing robes tickled his ear. Ducking a killing curse, Remus snarled and unleashed every nasty spell he had in his repertoire. Lucius narrowly avoided a bone breaking hex only to fall over a body bound Dolohov. Lucius was just staggering to his feet when the floor began to tremble. Keeping his feet braced Lupin fired off a Flagellum ignis. A long rope of flames irrupted from the tip of his wand snapping and crackling with each flick of his wrist. The flame caught the blonde across the arm, burning through the robes and biting deeply into the skin.

Lucius cried out and raised his wand but Remus gave a violent tug, and the whip pulled the Death Eater into his waiting fist. With their leader down the other seemed to drop like flies. With Kingsley putting away a bruised and limping McNair with a simple stupefy.

All the sound that remained was the quite hiss of the smoking walls and the quite groans of exhausted Order members. Mad-Eye, sporting a fresh burn above where his left eyebrow should have been, was helping a groggy Tonks to her feet. While Kingsley canceled out the Dancing feet jinx off poor Neville Longbottom and setting his broken nose. With Neville now set to rights Kingsley lead the young Gryffindor off to see to his friends and the disabled Death Eaters. Mad-Eye stomped toward Remus, with a heavy clomp of his artificial limb, stepping on Lucius, while dragging a disoriented Tonks along behind like a naughty child.

Before Mad-Eye could reach him the floor rocked sending the remaining Order members toppling off their feet. With Tonks landing heavily atop Mad-Eye's back.

"Oi you dizzy girl, get off eh me." Moody barked and Tonks just giggled and made to attempt to move off the cantankerous old Auror. Hefting himself up on an elbow Remus didn't attempt to get to his feet and the floor rumbled beneath him. He settled for crawling forward and attempting to dislodge Tonks.

"Oh pretty." the pink haired woman gasped pointing a finger toward the veil. "Oopsie." She muttered as she tipped forward digging her elbow deeper into Mad-eye's back. The old Auror cursed but Remus couldn't help but glance up. Remus gaped his hand going limp on Tonk's arm. There on the platform where Bellatrix had killed his dearest friend a mighty wind billowed out the tattered black curtain and a golden light rippled and grew. The arch that housed the veil began to tremor and quake until with a violent burst it exploded outward.

Instinct alone had Remus ducking over Tonks and Moody as a heavy spray of masonry pelted them. The very walls and floor shook so mightily he feared they would give way under the force. It seemed like hours as the world shook around him until just as suddenly as it began it stopped. The only sound to be heard in the room was their breaths.

It wasn't until Moody and quite reached the end of his tether and snapped to "Get the fuck off me 'ya mangy mutt!". That Remus forced himself upward pulling Tonks along with him until she rolled free of the Auror. Spitting out a vicious curse Mad-eye rose up on a knee and gazed around the room. Before moving off to check on the condition of his prisoners. Glancing over Tonks for injuries Remus heaved a sigh of relief when he found only a scrapped knee.

With a heavy heart he turned his gaze to the platform. Where the veil had once stood there now was nothing more than a smoking crater. Getting to his feet he bid the younger woman to stay put and inched toward the platform with shining eyes. Whips of thick gray smoke curled up toward the ceiling and rocks creaked and slid until finally settling.

Remus was about to turn away, to leave this God forsaken chamber and never return. At least he was until amongst the rubble he caught a flash of red and gold. Moving closer he found a shock of dark black hair and gasped. "Sirius!"


	2. The Curious Case of Sirius Black

A|N: Where you see the * is an excerpt from J.K's Order of the Phoenix and is in no way mine.

Chapter Two:

The Curious Case of Sirius Black

Albus Dumbledore flattered himself in thinking he was very well educated in the ways of magic. Since before even his Hogwarts years he had loved books and would devour anything he could get his hands on. From fairytales like 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' to thick dusty tomes of adventure where scholars became heroes, such as 'Dancing with Hippogriffs: by Two Toes Tabolt'. Albus had always been on a quest to learn and discover. It was that quality that had nearly seen him swathed in blue and bronze instead of red and gold.

Yet even in the den of lions he excelled. More so than even his Ravenclaw classmates. His thirst for knowledge would not be quenched. While others spent their free time in frivolous pursuits Albus became a permanent fixture in the library. Always found among a tower of books with with ink stained fingers and rolls of parchment. His dedication had seen him become a star pupil. Lauded by his professors and both admired and detested by his fellow students. Albus had cast quite a large shadow and he had glorified in it. Still that young boy at heart he had dreamed of the world beyond the Hogwarts gates and all the mysteries and discoveries that were just waiting for him. Like a sirens call they beckoned to him. Until hubris had consumed him. He had been young and brilliant and oh so eager to escape. To escape his broken family and to excel where so many others had failed. It had been so close. He would be leaving just after graduation, he and Elphias Dodge had planned to see the world. To begin that journey that Albus was so certain would make him a great wizard, instead of merely a great potential.

He had been a fool. A young fool with childish dreams. He knew that now, for nothing in life was ever truly that simple. The achievement of dreams was earned and never easily done. Leaving behind adventure to be a guardian for a broken sister had never been in his plans and soon resentment had taken root.

It had never been Ariana's fault, but that had mattered little to him in his youth. Albus was not his sisters favorite brother, but still she had loved him. Even when she had to have known. Had to have seen the bitterness that gnawed at him. That warped him from a promising young wizard into a power hungry man. Still she had loved him. That sweet girl with a forgiving heart and power that was forever damaged. Ariana seldom inflicted her eldest brother with her presence. Happy to just have him within her line of sight. He should have seen. He should have been better. Again he would fail.

Then came Gellert. Another great talent and a fellow bitter soul. Twisted by a desire for power. A friendship that would be poison. Destroying all it touched. Ariana payed the price for his ambition, for his bitterness and ambition. (How truly Slytherin of him) She had payed and he would never forgive himself for that.

He returned to Hogwarts shortly after. He was safer there. At Hogwarts he could still pursue knowledge. Could still discover the mysteries of magic, but he was contained. No longer would he abide that once burning need to be the greatest. To be revered. He was simply a teacher. He would mold the minds of the coming generation so they may succeed where he had failed.

Ironically it would be his academic pursuits with the like of Nicholas Flamel and the defeat of his once dear friend, and greatest mistake, that would thrust fame and renown upon his shoulders. That as a bitter young man he had so craved, was no an accolade he no longer wanted, nor deserved. For it came at much to high a price. So in Hogwarts he would stay alone with his guilt, free of adventure and forever paying his penance.

It was that guilt that had lead him to time magic. If only he could go back. To right his wrongs. The Time Turner would not be feasible due to limited reach, but if a wizard could harness the magic enough to reverse time. Even if only for a mater of hours, maybe there was away to take him back to the moment of his greatest failure.

But no matter his degree of guilt and self-loathing only those soft in the head toiled with time magic. All his research had said as much, but it was when he had stumbled upon diaries of Percival Winston Barmy, the founder of the International Department of Inscrutable Occurrences of Time (I.D.I.O.T) and the inventor of the time turner, that he had truly accepted it as a futile endeavor.

In truth Barmy's reasons for studying time magic was not something so noble as academic curiosity but a mad quest for unlimited power. And that was a rabbit hole Albus Dumbledore was not willing to tumble down again. So he had put the notion of righting his wrongs aside.

Now as he stood at the foot of the cot in the medical wing, decades later, gazing down at the impossible that Albus could not help but wonder if maybe he gave in to easily. If this was possible maybe his dreams too could be realized. Dumbledore shook his head and tightened his aged fingers on the footboard.

In the lone chair beside the bed sat Remus Lupin, his head bowed and resting in his open palms. If not for the rigid line of his shoulders Albus would have thought him to be asleep. Poppy Pomfrey stood on the opposite side of the cot, her face pale and drawn, as she nervously fussed with her unexpected patients blankets. Before huffing to herself and with teary eyes swept hair off the forehead of young Sirius Black.

Albus himself could not quite put into words the vast spectrum of emotions flowing through him. The most dominant however was befuddlement. How could this have occurred. Remus had reported that Sirius had fallen through the Veil and he himself had witnessed Harry's reaction. The need for all consuming revenge had overcome the young man and he had run off after Bellatrix Lestrange. As mad as she was powerful Albus had been quick to follow. So he had missed the chain of events that had led to Kingsley Shacklebolt limping into the Atrium,after port-keying the children away to the safety of the hospital wing and into the capable hands of Poppy, and summoning him back into the Department of Mysteries.

Albus would admit to being distracted during the journey through the forgotten halls in the bowels of the Ministry. But it was when they arrived at the chamber Albus had been dumbstruck. Alastor Moody was still stomping about trussing up the unconscious Death Eaters. Nymphadora Tonks was seated on the bottom step, trying to wiggle out of her trousers, as she had been secured by the seat of her pants with a sticking charm from the cantankerous old Auror. To cease her attempts to assist as she was still recovering from a confundus curse and was doing more harm than good. As he passed the young witch paused in her attempts to undress and gazed up at him with bleary glassy eyes and waved, and only managing to poke herself in the eye twice. But it was Remus kneeling amongst the mess broken stones and smoking walls, on an empty platform that truly struck him dumb.

Where the arch of the veil had once stood was now a smoking crater. Rubble sizzled and burned a mild molten gold and silver smoke curled up to the domed ceiling. Shuffling to a stop at the base of the platform Albus locked eyes on what held Remus Lupin's attention. Cradling a dark head in his lap, the werewolf gazed up at him with wet eyes of blue.

His once pupil had been to overcome to speak, but Albus did not need the words. Because he remembered all to well that slick black hair, and youthful face. After all he had seen it enough in his office to be forever branded into his memory. It was the same boy whom he had thought the worst of. The same boy who once was wrongly accused and spent years unjustly tormented by dementors. This boy however was free of the scars of Azkaban. The tattoos that once marked his tan skin were gone. As was the nearly gaunt frame. He was the picture of innocence at that moment.

It was the sound of rushing feet and the heavy clunk of a walking stick that startled Albus back to the present. The privacy screen was inched aside so Minerva, fresh from St. Mungo's Hospital, could slide inside. Still in the plain utilitarian robes in the sliver and blue colors of St. Mungo's. Minerva leaned heavily upon her walking stick as her eyes widened and the color seemed to drain from her face and she wobbled on her feet. If young Mr. Black had been awake, he would have accused his former (current?) head of house of going weak in the knees at the sight of his handsome face. Which in this instance would have been very close to the truth. Dumbledore was forced to conjure up an arm chair for woman to fall into, less she end up on the floor, as her knees gave way. Pressing a trembling hand to her mouth she looked to him and whispered in a strained Scottish brogue.

"How? How did this happen?"

He sighed, and gave her a wane smile. "Ah, Minerva; how I wish I knew."

"The floor shook," Remus' voice was gruff as he finally spoke. Removing his head from his hands, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was distracted. I was fight Lucius, he had just fallen over Dolohov and getting to his feet when the floor began to tremor."

Checking once that the privacy curtains were pulled tight, Albus conjured up an old cozy arm chair and fell into wearily. His old bones happily sinking into the squashy cushions. With a gentle hand he checked in on the fledgling Fawkes, who lifted its bald head and gazed up at him with trusting eyes, and warbled a soothing song. With a weary sigh and a pained smile he let the pocket of his robe fall closed and turned his eyes upon the equally exhausted werewolf, waiting for him to continue.

Remus pursed his lips. "It wasn't bad, not at first. It barely registered. I just brace myself and continued. I caught Malfoy with the Fire-Whip hex," he broke off and gave a dark rusty chuckle. "He'll never be free of the scars."

"No less than he deserves." Poppy snapped, finally standing fully upright and gazing at her former charge, her expression fierce. "Always was a loathsome boy. So pompous and unjustly so. Never did have much talent. Except in the Dark Arts, oh yes he was prodigy with that. A talent he no doubt passed on that boy of his." She spat before going back to her fussing.

Albus sighed. "Now Poppy," he began only to be forestalled when she growled at him in warning, daring him to contradict her. As he had no wish to join the young Gryffindors and lone Ravenclaw as a patient himself, he held his tongue. The Matron was obviously in know mood for the excesses of an overly understanding old man. Few knew of his youthful follies and his all to great understanding of the young Malfoy heir.

With a heavy mournful sigh and a flick of his wand a tea cup appeared in his hand. Tapping his wand against the lip of the china cup and a fountain of Tea flowed from the tip and into the delicate cup, he finished off with a splash of milk before he passed it over to the distraught werewolf. The younger man gladly accepting the cuppa and sipping at the brew.

"Please continue, Remus." Albus prompted after a few sips.

"After the battle ended, Kingsley saw to Neville and took him deep into the Department of Mysteries to retrieve his classmates. Mad-Eye was seeing to Tonks. She'd been hit by a confundus was still a bit scattered. But the shaking got worse and it nocked us off out feet. Tonks she noticed it first." He broke off with a frown and took a deep gulp of his tea. Wincing when it burned its way down his throat.

"Light. This bright golden light was coming from behind the curtain of the veil. Then the walls began to shake and then the arch itself. Then it exploded. I found Sirius among the rubble."

Frowning Albus tented his fingers beneath his chin. Yet another puzzle, one that would have to be tended to later, as Harry was still awaiting him in his office and he had waited on him long enough.

Albus entered his office to the applause of the previous Headmaster and Mistresses. With whispered thanks he did not look at young Harry, as he first went to Fawkes perch and gingerly removing the baby Phoenix from the folds of his robes and placed him gently in the soft nest of ashes below the golden perch a fully grown Fawkes called home.

* "Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, finally turning away from baby Fawkes, "you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students will suffer any lasting damage from tonight's events."

Harry tried to speak but nothing came out. Although after so long Albus was finally looking at Harry Potter after a long year of being kept at arms length, he could not meet his kindly gaze. It was a look he knew all to well. Ever since his sister had fallen he had never been able to meet his brother's eyes again. Afraid to see the condemnation that he knew still burned in Aberforth's eyes. Guilt, anger, and devastation were written in every line the young man's posture. On a deeply personal level it was agonizing to see one so young, experience this level of emotional turmoil.

"Madam Pomfrey is patching everybody up now," said Dumbledore. "Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems she will make a full recovery."

Harry nodded, his green eyes locked on the carpet, that was slowly growing lighter as the sky outside grew paler.

Eyeing to young man solemnly over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, the usual twinkle in his eye noticeably absent as shadows crept in. "I know you may not wish to believe it, but I know how you feel." Albus' voice was nearly whisper soft and emotionally bare.

Anger seized Harry, and his eyes-Lily's eyes- burned at him. Pinning him and silently condemning him. His stomach twisted and the sour taste of bile filled Dumbledore's mouth.

"No you don't." Harry snapped his voice loud and angry.

With a solemn face, Albus softly shook his head. "I assure, Harry, I do."

From his portrait Phineas Nigellus piped up, but Albus barely heard him. No doubt it had not been anything useful, probably nothing more than his normal poisonous brand of whit.

"Enough Phineas." He commanded, but this meeting soon deteriorated and slipped from his grasp. As the young man, that he had endeavored to protect since he was nothing more than an injured toddler, exploded in a destructive, and healthy, display of anger. Albus would be lying if he had said he wasn't more than a little proud. Anger, in its raw explosive form, was normal, it was healthy. It was when emotion and pain was internalized that it became a festering wound. So he turned a blind eye to the destruction before him and ignored the cries of protest of his predecessors. It was only when Harry tried to escape his presence that he finally spoke up. When he had fallen into his desk chair and explained that this guilt was not for Harry to bare, as it fell firmly upon his own shoulders.

"Am I to understand," Phineas drawled slowly, sitting forward in his throne like chair, cold gray eyes pinning Albus to his seat, "That my great-great-grandson—the last of the Blacks—is dead?"

Albus sighed sitting back and tenting his finger beneath his chin. "In a manner of speaking."

With wet eyes Harry gazed at him with a mix of desperate hope and revulsion, and cried. "I saw him fall!"

"He did indeed fall. But, something extraordinary happened after we left the chamber, Harry." Albus spoke softly.

"So—So—He's alive, Sirius is alive." Harry whispered brokenly, falling into a seat across from his desk. Albus' answering smile was piteous.

"No, Harry, the Sirius Black you knew is gone. Killed by Bellatrix Lestrange," Albus paused, when Phineas gave an angry shout spitting demands for clarifications, and Harry made to interrupt, he held up a a stalling hand. "Yet, Sirius Black, a different Sirius, currently resides in the hospital wing under the care of Madam Pomfrey, and the watchful eyes of Professor McGonagall."

Harry gaped confounded.

Phineas' nasal wringing voice, however, would not be silenced. "Please explain Dumbledore. Is my grandson still alive or not?"

"It is, I admit a perplexing situation. Your grandson, the man is gone, but the boy, the boy remains. An unknown and incredible, unexplained, magic occurred after Harry and I pursued Bellatrix. Remus Lupin remained behind in the chamber with Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks, to battle the remaining servants of Voldemort." After that Albus talked them through the series of events, described to him by Remus.

"So he's my age now?" Harry finally spoke up, after a lengthy silence.

With a soft smile he finally locked eyes with the boy. "Yes, Harry. He is now no more then fifteen of sixteen years old. And now completely free of the scars of Azkaban. He may not be the man you remember, but deep down the essences of who he was is still their, he is just no longer so burdened by grief."

"Then he doesn't know—about Wormtail, about my parents." He concluded weakly.

The tentative smile Albus wore slowly faded, replaced with a deep frown. "No, he does not. But soon he will need you. And Mr. Lupin and your friends. Remember he survived Peter's betrayal once, and he will do it again."

"Naturally," came Phineas' oily voice. "He is a Black after all. Now Headmaster, if you would be so kind, I wish to see my heir."

"Me too, I mean—I want to see him too." Harry stuttered.

Dumbledore's smile was warm. "Of course. Phineas, I will have the portrait of the sleep sheep moved to young Mr. Black's bedside. Harry, if you will go to the hospital wing I believe you will find, Remus waiting. As for myself, I must venture out to treat with the centaurs, and secure the release of Madam Umbridge."

"Why?" Harry questioned, his face contorting up in distaste. Albus, in was seemed like months, through his head back in laughter. That always present twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Yes, well, I fear we all must do our duty, no matter our distaste." Dumbledore smiled, coming around his desk and clasping Harry's shoulder. The young man flinched and frowned, but to Albus' relief did not pull away. It was as he was pulling his hand away that he felt the gritty granules in the folds of his robes. Moving aside a fold Albus spotted glittering golden sand interspersed, like twinkling stars across the blackness of the robes. Then blinding clarity.

"Harry, by any chance where you anywhere near the Time room?"


End file.
